I learned a valuable lesson in junior high school. Actually, I learned many lessons during that volatile time known as junior high school…or, today, middle school, some valuable and some not so valuable. This particular lesson came, believe it or not, in physical education class. The two teachers for boys’ PE were Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla. Any legendary stories swirling about concerning mafia connections for Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla were definitely not quenched by either one. A little "mob punishment" scare was a good thing for boys’ PE discipline!

Ever notice how PE teachers wear the same thing every day? Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla wore the same thing every day—dark blue polo shirt and khaki pants along with the state-of-the-art "coach’s shoe" in that day…black Converse. Presumably, they had ten to twelve sets of the same outfit. I remember one moment of daring bravado on my part when I asked Mr. DiTolla if he wore the same thing to church on Sunday. "Yes I do, Mr. Holmes," (they always called us "Mr." but I really don’t think it was a term of respect!) "Yes I do, Mr. Holmes. The only difference is I replace the white shoelaces with black ones!"

We always referred to Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla as Mister and it was definitely a term of respect!

Anyway, the valuable lesson I learned was this. I was a pretty good athlete in my day. That’s not the lesson, but just setting the stage for the lesson! I was a pretty good athlete in my day and I had two older brothers who were also pretty good athletes. They had preceded me at Kunsmiller Junior High School and had sufficiently prepared me for Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla. They’d scared me is what they’d done! But, my brothers’ athletic successes had placed a kind of expectation for my athletic success. In other words, Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla were watching me!

And I was experiencing some success. We didn’t have organized athletic teams at the junior high level in those days—that took place outside of school in other organized leagues—but we did have in-school competitions in things like flag football, basketball and wrestling. My flag football and basketball teams won the school championship every year. In wrestling, I won my weight division every year. Even in cross country—we had a long distance run around the school playground and portions of Harvey Park—my best friend, who was in a different PE class, and I competed to see who could set the best time. His class was earlier and I always bettered his time. I was on a roll!

The lesson came one day in PE class when Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla announced the formation of teams for some in-school competition—I can’t recall today exactly what that competition was. But, they announced, they were going to call out the names of six people who would be the captains of the teams. And they played it up big: "These six people have shown great leadership in our class," they said, "and are deserving of this special honor of captaining one of these teams." We were all seated on the floor, scattered throughout the gym and as they spoke I placed my feet in position to rise from the floor when they called my name…as surely they would. I didn’t even need to look around the gym at the others gathered there to know I was the most deserving of this honorable selection. Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla began calling out the names. With each breath they took, I began to move my body forward to rise at the calling of my name only to have some other name called out. Well, they’re obviously saving the best for last, I thought. As Mr. DiTolla took a deep breath to call out the sixth and final name, I really began moving my momentum forward to rise and receive my just recognition. Only…he didn’t call my name! (You knew that was coming didn’t you?) I’m sure my mouth fell open as I sank back down onto the floor. Amazingly, I didn’t call out, "Wait a moment! Check your list again! Surely my name is supposed to be one of the six!" I was probably too shocked to speak.

It turned out the whole thing was a set-up by Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla. Oh, the competition was real and the need for six captains for six teams was real. The set-up was that Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla intentionally did not select me as a captain because they wanted to see how I reacted. It turns out they had been watching me over the last few months and were disturbed by what they saw. A kind of cockiness, a swagger had begun to appear and they felt it was time to address it.

After that class, Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla called me into their office. They were going to write me a pass for my next class because they wanted to talk with me. And they proceeded to tear into me. They told me they had been watching me. More than that, they pointed out specific behaviors I had exhibited over the past few weeks—moments where I had been flippant about instructions given for an activity, moments where I had been abusive toward someone not as "gifted" athletically as me, moments where…well, moments where I had just been a jerk. They told me about the "set-up" in the selection of captains for the teams, how they were watching me as they called out the names and how I reacted pretty much as they expected me to. Then they began to talk about the responsibility of leadership, the proper attitude toward successes in life—whether athletic or otherwise—and their expectations of something better from me. What they did was make me cry. It took a while before I could go to my next class. But also what they did that day was to save me from myself. I’d like to think I became a better person that day. It’s a fine line to walk between confidence in your ability to accomplish something, to succeed at something and a cockiness that assumes special privileges and looks down on other "less fortunates." I’d like to think I learned that day how to better walk that line. Perhaps I should ask Kim about that, she’s been around pretty much through that whole journey—although I’ve never told her that story.

It seems to me that Jesus is teaching a similar lesson in our Scripture passage for today. Like Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla, Jesus watches the behavior of those who gather for dinner at a "prominent" Pharisee’s house. Interesting how the story turns from Jesus being watched by the Pharisees to Jesus doing the observing. As for human vanity, the setting could’ve been just about anywhere—a prestigious dinner, a junior high PE class, a Board of Directors meeting…dare I say, even a church—and the jostling for the place of honor and prestige would begin. The jostling Jesus observes leads to a teaching from Jesus, the point of which is, "those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." That is a fact of life in the Kingdom of God: "Those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted."

That’s a fact of life in God’s Kingdom because "those who exalt themselves" aren’t very useful in the Kingdom.

For one thing, "those who exalt themselves"—the proud, the haughty, the arrogant—tend to focus on themselves and not others. Self-exaltation makes for a lousy servant attitude. The self-exalted seek to serve themselves first, if not exclusively. They have high demands and expect their demands to be met…because they deserve it. Or so they think. And if their demands aren’t met, the sound of their ire is loud and long. Self-exalted people aren’t useful in the Kingdom because their tendency is to focus on themselves.

Relatedly then, self-exalted people aren’t useful in the Kingdom because they are indifferent toward others, if not ignoring them completely. This is especially true in their attitude toward the needy and those in a lower station of life. The self-exalted are too busy jostling for the place of honor to be bothered with concern for the needy around them.

One of the things Mr. Distefano and Mr. DiTolla had observed in me that was troubling to them was a disrespect, if not a downright meanness, toward those who weren’t as skilled athletically. They pointed out some instances where I had used my abilities in some activity we were involved in to basically humiliate someone less skilled in that activity. What I was failing to recognize, of course, was that that person was, first of all, exactly that…a person. With emotions and feelings that every person has. And, secondly, I was failing to recognize that that person had gifts and skills in other areas that completely outshined my abilities in those areas. That’s what self-exalted people do—diminish others and others’ weaknesses while overlooking their own weaknesses. And it renders them useless in the Kingdom.

And finally, self-exalted people are useless in God’s Kingdom because eventually they will lose their dependence on God. Who needs God when I have all these skills and abilities? There is an issue of reward and relationship here as well. From what relationship do you most desire and seek approval and reward? From God? Or from prominent Pharisees in the world?

Jesus takes the occasion of a dinner at the home of a "prominent" Pharisee, observing the jostling for the place of honor that is happening before his observant eyes, to drive home the point that in the Kingdom of God, "those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." And to remind his disciples of this point, he has given us this meal that is set before us. There is no place of honor to be jostling over at this table. Or perhaps better stated, every seat is a place of honor at this table…because it is Jesus who brings honor to the table. All we can do is receive it—and live it—humbly and gratefully…that is if we want to be of any use in the Kingdom of God.